


Bittersweet

by shobogan



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shobogan/pseuds/shobogan
Summary: Unattended Robins will be given free puppies and espresso.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I read [this post](http://ephemeraltea.tumblr.com/post/145466884901/lets-all-just-take-a-moment-to-imagine-a-universe), and fic happened. 
> 
> Jason's methodology may be flawed, but it can't be any worse than Tim's coping mechanisms.

The signs start appearing just as Tim prepares to leave for Bludhaven. One last investigation, he figures, can’t hurt that much. 

He uses himself as bait, loitering around a utility pole (the sign is strapped at a ridiculous height, and it’s not even the oddest place he’s spotted them). He figures it’s a good thing, that he looks like such an easy target right now. (He needs to start eating better again, he needs to sleep more, he needs to do half a dozen things to get himself back in proper working order. He keeps telling himself it’ll be easier to breathe, once he leaves Gotham.)

All of the signs are written the same way, but the topics differ; this one threatens coffee and puppies. He hopes, distantly, that any puppies who may get involved are treated right. If they’re strays, or shelter dogs, he could - 

It happens right that second, just as he remembers some contacts he’d made with foster families. He’s on his back, and someone is looming over him in a hooded trench coat, swooping downward with a cloth in his hand. Tim can smell the chloroform, and his hand whips up to catch his attacker’s wrist as he kicks upward between his legs. 

Except, somehow, this guy is faster than him.

When he wakes up, he’s in the cave. There’s a triple shot from Starbucks duct-taped to his hand, and a Labrador puppy napping in his lap. Bruce is just sweeping down the staircase when Tim opens his eyes. He tries to speak, but his mouth has gone dry, and he coughs out a few incoherent words. This wakes the puppy, who helpfully licks his lips.

Finally, to Bruce’s bewildered stare, “We’ve got a problem.”

 

They test the coffee, which isn’t poisoned, or in fact altered in any way; they test the puppy, who bears no infectious diseases or hidden bombs. (It takes a couple weeks for everything to come back, and he stays in the cave until then. He’s a chocolate lab, bursting with energy and affection; it seems only fitting to call him Mocha.) They check the cave for bugs, explosives, anything and everything. Apparently, the mystery man hadn’t so much as used their computers.

Tim sighs, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes. “So they just…did what they said they would.”

Bruce nods from his position at the control centre, expression grim - but then, it always is, lately. 

“They know where the cave is. They had me unconscious.”

Then, from the control centre, “Bruce?”

“Go ahead, Oracle.” Bruce’s tone is flat and terse; Barbara is leaving, too. Doing them one last favour.

“I managed to track down the shelter Mocha came from. The purchase was legit, but the name…”

Tim knows that tone. He straightens up, peering into the screen as if he could see her.

“Dr. Merula.”

His brow furrows. Merula migratoria is the scientific classification for “Robin”, so it’s definitely their guy, but that’s no reason for Barbara to sound so - 

He sees Bruce’s shoulders slump. And he remembers, those first feverish weeks, pouring through ever case on record, especially - 

“Jason.” His own voice sounds like a ragged echo. “He used that, when - “

“When we took in Scarecrow.” Bruce sounds worse. 

“We’re going to get this guy.” Now Barbara just sounds cold, cold and hard. “Whoever he is, whatever game he’s playing, we’re going to get him.”

 

They don’t, as it turns out. 

Instead, Tim wakes up in the cave two more times. The first time, he’s got a calico kitten and a mug of cocoa that tastes suspiciously close to Alfred’s; the second time, it’s another puppy - a mutt with big blue eyes - and a basket of fresh-baked brownies.

He was starving (still wasn’t eating properly, imagine that) and threw caution to the wind; fortunately, the brownies didn’t kill him. And they were delicious.

It didn’t help that a new vigilante had turned up. He didn’t have much of a costume, apparently - just a red domino mask and a coat full of weapons. Nothing lethal, so far; he even dumped the badly injured in front of Leslie’s clinic. (He left a note, once; it just said “Thanks” with a scribbled smiley heart.)

There's obviously a connection, but it doesn't make any _sense_.

 

It’s been over a month, now, and he still hasn’t left. There’s a _lot_ he hasn’t done, and there’s only one person he can talk to about it.

When he approaches Stephanie’s grave, it’s heartening to see gifts there, glistening in the autumn sun. But as he kneels down, he realises - 

There are three intricately carved figurines, two puppies and one kitten. 

He barely has time to push himself up again when he hears the footsteps, crunching through the dead leaves. His mystery man isn't wearing a mask, or a hood; just a grim, weary smile beneath bright blue eyes and wild black curls.

“Hey, Tim.” 

Tim’s heart has taken up residence in his mouth. He swallows a few times before gasping, “Jason?”

Jason just shrugs. “Yeah, more or less.” He reaches inside his coat and Tim tenses, defence tactics racing through his head - but all he pulls out are two thermoses. “Did I get Alfred’s recipe right? It’s been a while, so.”

“Uh. Almost.” 

Jason raises one of the thermoses in a wry cheer. “Good enough.” Then he offers it to Tim, and after a few strained, stunned moments, he accepts it. 

Jason plops himself down on the ground, and it seems only natural to follows suit. When he gestures at Stephanie’s grave, Tim’s gaze follows his hand, as if he’s not turning his back on a dangerous vigilante who’s kidnapped him three times.

“Tell me about her.”

Tim takes a long swig of his cocoa before meeting Jason’s eyes.

“Okay.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Bittersweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13017066) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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